


follow the rhythm, slow down

by corrupted_voracity



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Bottom Persona 5 Protagonist, Demon!Akira, Demons, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Size Difference, Stomach bulge (literally only mentioned once), Student!Goro, Top Akechi Goro, Wing Kink, implied aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 15:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30091437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrupted_voracity/pseuds/corrupted_voracity
Summary: “G-Goro-”He stifles a husky chuckle into the crook of Akira’s neck. Unable to resist the temptation of unclaimed, ivory skin any longer, he opens his mouth to roll soft flesh between his teeth.A sea of black flutters erratically as Akira arches even more into his touch, and it takes only a light brush of his fingers against the base of Akira’s secondary coverts to simultaneously calm him down and rile him up even more.“Akira,” Goro teasingly echoes back when the other lets out a quiet whimper.Something appears to be troubling his demon boyfriend. Goro decides to help out.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 155





	follow the rhythm, slow down

**Author's Note:**

> **Ding ding ding! One giveaway fic for[CryptidHorny!](https://twitter.com/CryptidHorny) Congratulations once again!**
> 
> There's not much body worship sadly... or does wing worship count? Nontheless I still hope I managed to meet your expectations with all the prompts! Thank you for letting me pamper Akira a little with this ♥
> 
> In case you want to _follow along_ with the wing anatomy, [this](https://www.anatomynote.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/3013/Wing-anatomy-Tichodroma-muraria-diagram.jpg) is the reference I used.

“G-Goro-”

He stifles a husky chuckle into the crook of Akira’s neck. Unable to resist the temptation of unclaimed, ivory skin any longer, he opens his mouth to roll soft flesh between his teeth.

A sea of black flutters erratically as Akira arches even more into his touch, and it takes only a light brush of his fingers against the base of Akira’s secondary coverts to simultaneously calm him down and rile him up even more. 

“Akira,” Goro teasingly echoes back when the other lets out a quiet whimper.

He smirks, lips curling against newly created bruises, and grazes along the rows and rows of black feathers with his hands, careful to apply just the right amount of pressure to have Akira teetering between too much and not enough. 

Goro’s arm isn’t long enough to follow the entire path of Akira’s primaries up to their tips, but the individual sections of Akira’s wings part like spilled ink wherever he drags the pads of his fingers across. Welcoming, trusting him.

“Goro,” Akira pants. His head turns just enough from where he buried it into a pillow to expose a parted, wet mouth and hazy eyes. Goro bites his lip at the sight, hips bucking slightly from where he’s straddling Akira’s back. “Please. N-no more teasing.”

Like all previous pleas, it goes unignored. 

Goro slowly pulls back his arm, delights in the way Akira visibly shudders as his blunt nails gently scrape along the insides of his sensitive wings. When he reaches the base of where scapulars blend in seamlessly with the glistening, flushed skin of Akira’s lower back, he splays his whole hand over it, kneading deeply into tense muscle. 

The reaction is immediate. Goro straightens to take it all in - gentle breezes of hot air encircle them as Akira writhes beneath him, wings folding and unfolding in rapid sessions at the sharp sting of pleasure shooting up the individual cords of his spine. 

“Beautiful,” Goro exhales softly, admiring the way Akira’s feathers titter softly in embarrassment. 

Even from this distance, Goro can see a gentle blush travel from Akira’s pointed ears down to the planes of his back and shoulders. It’s endearing. He laughs again, dipping down to lay a gentle kiss in the enticing dip between his shoulder blades. 

Akira whines softly. “Goro, can you just...”

“Can I just what, darling?”

Goro travels the free hand he’d been using to stabilize himself on top of Akira up to the section of his right wing. It relaxes in the same instance it shivers. The ripple across a dormant midnight lake. 

“...me,” Akira mumbles into the pillow. 

Goro knows very well what part of the sentence Akira just swallowed, but he wants to hear it anyway.

He begins to work his finger into the soft tufts of Akira’s feather again, diving deeper to brush the inner, sensitive layers not even light is privy to. They’re warm, humming with what Goro thinks to be wisps of magic and anticipation, and while Akira’s response is welcome, his choked off gasp reverberating in the bedroom just barely large enough to fit the span of Akira’s wings, Goro’s not nearly satisfied. 

Controlling himself around Akira is… difficult, to put it mildly. 

And his own arousal is getting increasingly harder to ignore, too, but Goro knows the wait will make the end all the more sweeter, and the privilege of being the only one to dismantle Akira bit by bit until he’s a shivering, pleading mess directs the insatiable fires of his want into something more managable. 

Goro eyes the flushed expanse of Akira’s heaving back. Mild displeasure surges through him at the sight of an unblemished neck - at times like these he hates Akira’s demonic regenerative abilities.

But it challenges him to try harder as well, to break skin long and hard enough that even the otherworldly blood running through Akira’s veins won’t be able to cover up the proof of Goro’s claim for quite a while. 

“I didn’t hear that.” Goro teasingly grazes his shoulder with his teeth, shuddering in delight when Akira does. “What did you say?”

“Please-”

Goro laughs raspily. “Not quite.”

He follows the curve of Akira’s spine with his tongue until he reaches the small juncture between the base of his wings. Moving his hands to encircle Akira’s small waist and deliberately letting his fingers drag across an endless bed of feathers on their way there, he laps at sweet skin once, twice before biting down. 

A fire ruptures within him, demanding _more._ Life brims underneath his hands and mouth, and Goro has to use his weight and strength to keep Akira pinned in place as he works his mark deep into burning skin. 

_His._

Some trinkets get knocked from Goro’s desk due to Akira’s wings spanning out to their full size, but he _can’t_ care less, not when he’s already working on another bruise and all he can think about is ways to make Akira trash and lose the grasp on himself even more. 

Enough desperation laces Akira’s plea this time for his voice to crack. 

“Please, Goro-” His wings fold inwards as an act of submission. The pooling desire visible in hooded, stormy eyes matches the one subjecting Goro’s gut to heated currents. “ _Please_ fuck me already.”

There’s some sort of primal power rushing through his veins, hearing, _knowing_ he’s the reason for Akira’s increasingly debauched state. 

And it’s all the confirmation Goro needs. He slides his hands down to the soft curve of Akira’s hips, lifting his own to properly flip Akira around, finally crawling properly on top of him to take in how helpless and flushed Akira looks, curved horns glowing subtly. 

He allows himself to bask in the living canvas for a few moments. And what seizes his heart even more than the hints of tears glistening in Akira’s eyes, how he’s parting his legs more out of instinct than conscious decision is the tenderness in which Akira reaches out for him with, monopolizing all of Goro’s erratic thoughts as small hands glide down cheeks, shoulders, the valley of his arms down to encase his wrists.

To keep Goro there, to bind him even closer to Akira’s heart than he already is.

He wonders if Akira is aware of how deeply the chains actually run. 

“You’re staring,” Akira points out with a breathy smile. His eyes are burning velvet, brighter than Goro’s own, and he drags long, sharp nails across the inside of Goro’s wrist to draw small circles.

Prickling sensations shoot up his entire arm. “I am.”

Before Akira can react to the bluntness of his confession, Goro dips down to capture the demon’s lips. 

Akira tastes like promises and molten chocolate and _not enough._ He doesn’t put up much of a fight anymore, not when Goro’s spent so long on wearing him out. Merely lets out a quiet whimper when Goro slips a tongue inside, tilts his head back to give better access. 

“Goro,” Akira gasps into his mouth. “Need you.”

It's addictive.

Goro disconnects the heat of their lips to trace the line of Akira's throat down his chest, briefly teasing hardened buds to revel in short mewls before going even lower. 

Akira’s murky eyes have been lazily following him, but now they slowly widen with realization. “What are you- _nghh-!”_

His dazed question ends in a broken moan when Goro closes his lips around the tip of Akira’s weeping length. He’s small - smaller than average, smaller than Goro in every sense of the word aside from the wide span of his wings, so small that he can swallow Akira completely along with his balls. 

“G-god-”

Goro can’t help but chuckle at the irony. The vibrations go straight into Akira's cock, and he watches as his back arches into a pretty bow, hips bucking, trembling thighs clamping around Goro's head to keep him there, anything to chase more of that unravelling pleasure.

Goro only encourages it. He grabs Akira by his hips - earlier he was busy painting a row of bruises down his back, but now he can really appreciate and _feel_ how easily Akira fits into the palm of his hands - to pull him flush against his mouth, taking him even deeper. 

Immediately, one of Akira’s hands comes up to fist Goro’s hair. The other grips the headboard behind him in an attempt to steady himself in midst the overbearing sensations of pure, hot wetness engulfing all sides of his cock, sucking and hollowing, coaxing one needy sound after the other forth. 

It’s a good thing almost everyone in the dorm is out for a bar trip. 

“Ahh- _mhmm-”_

Another high pitched whimper echoes through the room when Goro circles the tip of his cock to taste sweet, demonic essence. Akira’s head has long been thrown back, bearing the tempting expanse of a long, pretty, _marked_ throat. 

The sight makes him dizzy with want. 

“Fuck, Goro- _ahhh_ , why?”

Because he felt the tension in Akira’s shoulders when he came home from classes, saw how his lips quirked up a little too late, remembered that Akira previously visited the world he originally came from.

His demon peers most likely sneered at Akira _again_ for binding himself to a _weak_ human as opposed to killing him.

Uncreative taunts and empty threats usually don’t get to Akira, especially if Goro indulges him in a round of cuddles on his lap the moment he’s gotten some homework and studying done, but sometimes it’s simply too much to brush off. 

And where Goro openly bares his teeth at the problems bugging him, most often than not resorting to a colorful vocabulary to curse whatever shit fate decides to throw at him to make life even harder than it already is, Akira eats problems into himself in an attempt not to burden or worry anyone. 

Goro doesn’t know how he ended up with a demon as unorthodox, kind and caring and doting as Akira, but somehow it happened and they’re boyfriends now, so it’s only natural that he takes care of Akira when the other refuses to. 

And he takes pride in it, too. To see the demon completely splayed out beneath him, wearing only his wings and horns and a sheen of sweat, _trusting_ Goro with everything - his wings, his body, his mind. Dismantling him, but neither to put him together anew or the same. More to remind him that Akira can let go when it’s with him, that Goro will smoothen ridges and corners one at a time. 

As worked up as Akira already is, he spills into Goro’s mouth after a few more shallow thrusts. Goro groans at the stinging sensation of his hair being pulled, but it’s followed by sparks of sharp pleasure right after. 

“One would think- hah- out of us both, you’re the demon,” Akira raggedly pants once Goro pulls off.

Black nails have left their mark in the wooden headboard with how hard Akira must have gripped, and Goro’s pretty sure his wallet will complain about it the next morning, but right now the sight makes him even harder than he already is. 

Goro wants those scratches on his back, proudly wearing Akira’s own mark. 

“I’m sure I’d make an excellent demon,” he purrs, pulling a limp and pliant Akira into his lap. Arms automatically wrap around his neck and shoulder.

Akira laughs, raspy and high. “Oh, you would.”

When Goro aligns his cock with Akira’s entrance, he doesn’t bother with preparation - Akira’s already stretched out from when Goro worked him open even before he paid special attention to his wings, and the natural lubricant steadily seeping out of his waiting hole coats his throbbing length more than enough. 

He licks across Akira’s open mouth, buries his nose into already fading bruises to inhale the comfort of Akira’s scent.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

It’s the only warning Akira gets before Goro grabs both his ass and the base of a wing to simultaneously pull down and thrust up. 

When he finally buries himself into Akira’s deepest parts and vaguely sees Akira's stomach bulging a little, he loses himself. Akira sucks him in like he wants to never let go, like he wants to _devour_ him. And as a shivering curtain of feathers settles around them, pleas and chants of Goro’s name encouraging him to go faster, harder, _deeper,_ he knows that he’d probably let him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So,” Goro murmurs, twirling a damp, black curl around his finger. It’s way softer than one might think when first seeing the wild mop of hair sitting atop of Akira’s head. “Are you finally going to tell me what happened?”

Akira makes an unintelligible sound against his chest, but his arms curls tighter around it. Like he can hide himself from the world if he’s just close enough. He reminds Goro a little bit like a kitten, in that regard.

Goro lets go of his hair and drags his fingers down Akira’s spine in slow, soothing motions. He knows the demon will tell him on his own volition now. It just takes a little bit of time now, both lazily absorbing the afterglow warming their skin. 

The covers draped over them shifts a little when Akira adjusts his position on Goro’s chest. 

“It’s my dad. He’s just, merely being an asshole again. There’s no need to humiliate me in front of the servants and nobles anymore since he’s already done that when our relationship was exposed, but he did it again today,” Akira eventually mumbles into his chest. 

“...bastard,” Goro hisses, curling the arm he has around Akira tighter. He tries to lock their eyes, but Akira seems adamant on watching his own finger draw mindless patterns just below Goro’s collarbone. Goro’s vaguely aware of the angry trails of red across his own back. 

“What did he say?”

“The usual. How I’m a disgrace to the family, how he’d never let someone like me have the throne. Which doesn’t even make _sense_ because Hifumi is firstborn and therefore in direct line in case he decides to give up on his immortality?” 

Goro blinks. “...admittedly, I sometimes forget that you’re a prince.”

 _Now_ Akira meets his gaze, gaze indignant, feathers bristling in a rather adorable manner that will surely offset what he’s about to say. 

“Excuse me? What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It’s good thing.“ Goro flicks Akira’s forehead and smirks at the offended expression he receives in return. “But seriously. If I knew a shithead like your father ruled the underworld before meeting you, I would have cursed to god way more often.”

“Is that your equivalent of praying?” Akira teasingly asks. But the playful tone doesn’t last long, shoulders sagging too easily underneath the weight of Goro's hand. “Sorry. It’s stupid, I know. I should be used to this by now because he always-”

“ _Don’t_ be sorry,” Goro interrupts him, slowly, but firmly gripping Akira’s chin. 

The rage flickering within him is familiar, as always when Akira talks about the parental side of his family. It reminds him of his own, in a way. Perhaps one of the many reasons why they bonded so well. 

“You also shouldn't be used to something like that in the first place. God, if you’d _be_ , I’d walk through all circles of hell to drag him from his high horse down into the filthy mudd.”

“...it’s actually terrifying how you’re able to say that convincingly. Like, as if you’d _actually_ be able to do that. _And_ come out unharmed.”

“You know I’d tear the insides of every demon that ever talked ill about you out with my bare hands, right?”

“You also know it takes a little more than that to kill us, Goro. No demon would die because of that.”

“Good,” Goro murmurs darkly, squeezing Akira's waist. “That means I have a lot more time for countless other things.”

Akira laughs. It’s tired and a little husky from all the screaming he did, but it’s definitely not laced with the same trepidation as before. 

Soft, gentle accomplishment weakly flutters in Goro’s chest. 

“And that,” Akira chirps, pecking him on the lips before shrinking his horns to tuck his head underneath Goro’s chin, “is exactly the reason why I haven’t brought you to hell with me yet.”

Later, when the lights are completely out and Akira's even breaths fan against his skin, the demon mouthes an inaudible _thank you_ againt his throat.

Goro hides his smile in the crown of Akira's hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't make anyone black out :D!
> 
>   
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


End file.
